


love runs high

by theflyjar



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Edging, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sex on Furniture, Sharing Clothes, Smut, sex while on the phone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 21:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17856956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflyjar/pseuds/theflyjar
Summary: Boredom, when it comes to Yixing, is not a good thing when Yifan’s trying to concentrate.





	love runs high

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: t64
> 
> title comes from the song 'time of the season' by the zombies

The summer’s hot, even with the air conditioning blowing cool air into the apartment as best as it can. Yifan’s in his office clothes, though, knowing that he will have to go out for a late lunch with a few of his business associates within the next couple of hours. It’s gone two in the afternoon, too. The hottest hours of the day have passed but now the sun’s shining directly through the large glass walls, into the lounge, making it feel like an oven.

Still, Yixing’s only just slinking out of the bedroom. Yifan can hear Yixing’s socked feet scuffing on the glossed stone flooring, then the tap in the kitchen turn on and off within a few seconds of each other. Wanting to run over some notes before his next conference call is due, Yifan keeps his eyes on his laptop screen and doesn’t even flinch when Yixing’s arms drift down his chest. They pop a few buttons open and slip into Yifan’s shirt, feeling over the warm, slightly sweaty skin beneath. Yixing’s tongue and teeth toy with Yifan’s earlobe, teasing it.

“Good afternoon,” Yifan greets, highlighting the most important points on the page his assistant sent over, rather than twisting to meet Yixing’s lips with his own. “Sleep well?”

“It’s too bright,” Yixing whines as he withdraws from breathing on Yifan’s jawline and neck. “I feel like I haven’t slept at all.”

“You slept for almost twelve hours,” Yifan snorts. “You got in at two and woke me up because you fell onto me when you were trying to get your jeans off.”

“Sorry.” Even though he’s only said a single word, Yifan knows Yixing’s cringing as he considers what Yifan’s told him. “I didn’t mean to, but there was this band I needed to review, and their set only started at nine, then I met them backstage for some interviews and we had some drinks after. I didn’t realise how late it was. _Or,_ how drunk I was.”

“I know, it’s okay, Xing.” Yifan shrugs. “I don’t mind. I gave you the key code for a reason, so you could come over whenever you want, even if that’s after you’ve been working at two in the morning.”

“But you’ve got responsibilities and stuff, so, I’m still sorry. I’ll try to be quieter next time. I’ll be a good boy and not stay out so late on a weekday, too.”

“It’s fine, late nights come with the territory of being a freelance journalist.”

Yixing watches Yifan work for a few minutes, hands resting on Yifan’s stomach and his chin on the crown of Yifan’s head. When he gets bored, he straightens up and Yifan sense him move away, back towards the kitchen.

“You want some lunch?”

Yifan shakes his head, knowing Yixing can see him from where he’s probably stood behind the island in the kitchen, readying himself to get out whatever he’s going to need for whatever he’s making.

“I’ve got a lunch meeting at four at that restaurant a few blocks away. The one your friend works in.”

“Oh,” Yixing huffs. “You’re not home all day?”

“Nope.” The ‘p’ pops as Yifan lets it bounce off his lips and he can sense Yixing’s pouting. “It’ll only be two hours, three at a push. I’ll be back then, and we can do whatever you want, I promise—”

Yifan stops talking suddenly, his phone vibrating on the glass coffee table in front of him and he reflexively grabs it, sliding his finger across the screen to accept it.

“Hey, Xing, this is an important call, so can your lunch wait until after?”

It’s quiet for a moment as Yifan puts the receiver to his ear, only hearing a quiet, “sure,” from Yixing in the background. Yifan doesn’t get a chance to say thank you, as the team that are calling him all greet him, wanting to discuss progress they either have or have not made. The, _“Good afternoon, Mr. Wu,”_ he hears has him moving his laptop off his knees to grab his tablet to use as a notepad.

Once the formalities are done, they get straight into discussing what the team have been researching and reviewing for the product their company is going to produce next.

They have Yifan’s full and undivided attention until the tablet is moved off his lap and replaced by his boyfriend. Yixing sits on Yifan’s thighs in the tiniest shorts Yifan’s ever seen - which Yixing hasn’t bothered to even do up - and the shirt Yifan had been wearing the day before, also with none of the buttons fastened. It’s difficult for Yifan to ignore that Yixing’s evidently hard, with the shorts and Yixing’s underwear barely concealing a thing.

Yifan tries to send Yixing a warning look but Yixing only pouts, mouthing, _“But, I’m bored.”_ And, boredom, when it comes to Yixing, is not a good thing when Yifan’s trying to concentrate.

There’s barely any time for Yifan to prepare himself before the heel of Yixing’s right hand is rubbing over both Yifan’s cock and balls, trying to make Yifan hard beneath his touch. Yifan’s mouth falls a little slack as Yixing’s other hand joins in the fray, his thumb rubbing right over where the head of Yifan’s cock is.

Yixing simply fondles Yifan for a while, smiling as Yifan’s breathing quickens whilst he speaks to his subordinates. Yifan can only watch in slight awe at how delighted Yixing is by simply touching him, by making Yifan hard to the point where it’s uncomfortable to be in his trousers. When Yixing undoes the button and zipper of Yifan’s slacks, he does it quickly to be able to push his hand into Yifan’s underwear and starts to dryly rub Yifan’s cock directly.

Yifan’s hand, the one not holding his phone flies up from the tablet pen he’s holding, and he covers his mouth, stifling the barely audible groan that erupts from his throat. Yixing’s hands feel like complete heaven. They’re mainly smooth, apart from the worn in callouses he has from playing guitar for a few years, so it’s a perfect balance of softness for Yifan to relish in and toughness to tease. Yixing’s hips rock gently into thin air until Yixing shifts around, sitting himself on one of Yifan’s thighs. He rubs himself, on Yifan’s leg, riding it until he’s frotting.

With how distracted Yixing is in trying to cum from the friction he’s creating in those little shorts on Yifan’s thigh, Yifan’s sure he’s going to get away with a fast and sloppy handjob from Yixing. The best-case scenario, if he’s going to concentrate on any of the voices on the other end of the conference call before it’s over.

The diversion Yixing’s pleasure creates doesn’t stay for too long before Yixing’s hopping off Yifan’s leg, Yifan’s eyes following the way Yixing’s dick attempts to bob in those shorts. Yifan really wants Yixing to take them off. But, at the same time, he doesn’t want him to, either. The way they appear to be almost skin tight and obscenely short on Yixing’s toned upper legs, Yifan’s practically frothing at the mouth at the mere sight of Yixing.

He’s almost too good to be true.

Yifan definitely did not think that, at almost thirty-four, he would have a boyfriend as great as Yixing. Or one eleven years younger than him. Nor one that wears what appear to be booty shorts under Yifan’s shirts. Though, Yifan guesses the latter was done purposely, to be provocative.

Yixing drops to the floor with a gentle thud on the fluff rug that stops the coffee table from leaving marks on the flooring. Yifan doesn’t even resist Yixing when his fingers go to pull Yifan’s trousers down. In fact, he lifts his hips up to help him. He hopes that the more cooperative he is, the faster both he and Yixing will cum, leaving Yifan to get back to work.

That, however, doesn’t seem to be at the forefront of Yixing’s mind as he covers Yifan’s cock and balls in kittenish licks, his hands holding Yifan’s thighs apart. The hair around Yifan’s cock is cropped, kept in just the way Yixing likes, and Yifan knows it’s supposed to be a reward for that when Yixing starts to suck and wetly kiss Yifan’s balls. Yixing’s tongue is so heavenly in the way it swirls that Yifan scrunches his face up until it hurts, trying to stop himself from making any indicative noise to the members of his staff on the call. He risks it for a moment and mutes his side of the conversation for a few seconds, using the moment to whimper Yixing’s name.

It feels perfect when Yixing presses his nose against the hard vein on the side of Yifan’s cock, nudging it enough to have it throb. Yifan unmutes his microphone again and answers a question he’s been asked about his opinion on one of the teams’ findings. He manages it, barely, without a quiver in his words.

Doing as such, appears to be a mistake as Yixing huffs and moves away from Yifan’s balls, right over Yifan’s cock to take him into his mouth. He spends a lot of time at the tip, sucking and licking up the precum that’s spilt over to bead and dribble from the head. Yixing laps at it, laughing out moans as he does so, even going as far as to slurp on what’s come out of Yifan’s cock.

Yifan can feel his orgasm coming, hurtling through his body as he clings to the phone by his ear to keep him grounded to earth. But, Yixing senses it too and pulls away. He holds Yifan’s cock tightly until the gentle twitching of Yifan’s body subsides to nothing and then he descends down to Yifan’s dick again, deep throating him all in one go.

It’s a shock that has Yifan choking, not Yixing, and he stammers out an apology to his staff. Yixing doesn’t care, he never does, he just carries on. He’s sloppy with how he blows Yifan, not fearing plying Yifan’s cock with saliva until it dribbles down his chin and onto Yifan’s balls. He doesn’t seem to care that his gag reflex tenses constantly, clutching around the tip of Yifan’s cock as it meets the back of Yixing’s throat. He doesn’t seem to care that the grazing of his teeth against the vein on the side of Yifan’s cock is sending Yifan’s eyes rolling slightly.

The second start to Yifan’s orgasm comes all too quickly for Yifan, but Yixing’s prepared. He moves away again, not letting Yifan have his release.

Had they been completely alone with no one to hear, Yifan would have cried out in frustration, but he keeps it down. He tries his hardest to fight the noise and to fight the urge to grab Yixing’s hair, to fuck into Yixing’s mouth in the way he sometimes lets Yifan do.

Yixing’s eyes are visibly watered as he stares up at Yifan, the only sign that Yixing’s gag reflex does draw some kind of reaction from him. It’s such an erotic sight to behold; Yixing’s lips look abused and his eyes are lidded with pleasure, sparked up by lust. It really is not long before Yixing dives back down to suckle at the tip again, tonguing the slit this time to tease more precum out of it for him to swallow down.

Yifan’s so sensitive that he can’t hold back the short, sharp _ah_ s as they leave his throat and drift into the air. He tilts the microphone away from his mouth, hoping to conceal it. His free hand, the one not holding his phone, comes to the back of Yixing’s head and scrunches his fist up in Yixing’s hair, there he grips Yixing tightly and begins to flick his hips towards Yixing’s face. He doesn’t fuck Yixing’s face, he merely aids in the way Yixing moves and relishes in how much smoother Yixing’s lips and mouth feel against his cock.

When his orgasm builds for a third time, Yixing pulls back entirely and stands up on his feet. He hooks his fingers into the belt loops of the shorts and pulls them off, dropping them down onto his feet and stepping out of them. Instantly, Yixing swings a leg over to straddle Yifan’s lap. Their lips meet in a filthy kiss, the taste of Yifan’s own precum comes flooding into Yifan’s mouth from Yixing’s tongue. He had never tasted himself before being with Yixing, though, Yifan has grown accustomed to the flavour. He prefers it directly from Yixing’s tongue and lips, though.

Yixing is different to Yifan when it comes to the taste of cum. Yixing likes it when he finishes in Yifan’s mouth and Yifan spits it in a long dribble back into Yixing’s mouth for Yixing to swallow down. The first few times Yixing had asked for it, Yifan had thought it strange, but now it’s just one of those _things_ Yixing likes in the dirtiest throes of their fucking.

Still, Yifan doesn’t let his brain wander too far. Nonetheless, the voices on the other end of the phone do not press Yifan for answers, bickering between one another about possible future outcomes to solutions they’ve come up with. Yifan can focus on Yixing, on touching his ass and up his back with his free hand, stifling a groan when Yixing starts to direct Yifan’s cock to slip inside him.

Like every time it happens, Yifan’s placed into a state of awe when Yixing starts to ride him, Yixing licking and nibbling dirtily on Yifan’s earlobes and jawline. He curls and lifts his hips, Yifan’s hand grabbing at his ass to guide him up and down in a way that leaves them both slack-mouthed.

“Fuck me harder,” Yixing whispers directly into Yifan’s ear and Yifan prays within himself that it wasn’t caught by the receiver on his phone. “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Yifan wishes he could.

He thinks about bending Yixing over the back of the sofa and thrusting into him over and over again until both their toes curl, and Yixing whines out weakly. He considers holding Yixing still and fucking up into him hard enough that his hips hurt and the inner bends of Yixing’s bruise. He doesn’t, though. He knows he’d cry in pleasure, completely blowing the paper-thin cover he has between his end of the call and those on the other end of the line.

What he does is move in tandem with Yixing, moving his own hips in a way that he knows Yixing likes and hopes will get Yixing to his climax faster. In Yifan’s ear, Yixing’s breathing stutters and he pushes himself back away from Yifan’s chest. He leans back, one hand in his own hair and the other touching across his own chest. He’s putting on a show. His features are painted with lewd pleasure, but Yixing’s hooded eyes betray him. Yifan can clearly see lustful intention there and Yifan hates how easily he’s pulled into it, enraptured by Yixing’s ability to dress himself up in a costume of sin.

When asked a question, Yifan stammers out an answer, to which Yixing grins in return. He presses his hands to Yifan’s chest, using that to give himself leverage to ride Yifan harder and faster, the sound of their movements becoming more and more audible with each motion. Yifan throws his head back, eyes screwed up tight and hands screwed up even tighter.

 _“Gege,_ your cock feels _so good,”_ Yixing moans, which has them both pausing for a second.

Yifan holds the phone away from his face before he snorts, both he and Yixing letting out little laughs.

“Okay, no dirty talk. I can’t take myself seriously,” Yixing talks in a hushed voice, just quiet enough that Yifan knows he’s not actively trying to sabotage Yifan’s phone call entirely. “But just so you know, I wasn't lying. It really does.”

If he hadn’t been asked for his take on something, Yifan would have swatted at Yixing or told him to shut up. Instead, he opens his eyes just to roll them and respond to his workers, to which Yixing gets back at him by grinding down on Yifan. He dips down to mouth at Yifan’s neck, too. His breath is hot, heavy and wet on Yifan’s skin.

Yixing touches himself too, tugging at his own cock simultaneously to how he’s undulating his body above Yifan’s, and Yifan looks down his own body to watch him. He stares at the way Yixing moves his hand, pulling the skin down to reveal the head of his cock that’s dribbling with glimmering precum. Yifan can almost taste it on his tongue as Yixing plays with it with his thumb. Yixing’s entire body twitches and jolts when he toys with it in just the right way, trembling atop Yifan’s lap.

Still, Yixing swivels and draws himself up and down Yifan’s body, gasping whenever Yifan’s cock rubs him in the way he adores the most. Yifan himself feels like he’s in raptures, being pulled closer to heaven with each small manoeuvre Yixing does. The heat around his cock is so delicious, he’s so sensitive that he can hardly keep his mouth from falling open in awe of how brilliant Yixing is.

He’s so transfixed on Yixing that he hardly notices that the team on his call are waiting for him to give some kind of closing statement and for him to say goodbye. Only, Yifan’s not really been listening to anything since Yixing put himself on his lap. He says something generic, hoping to remain composed enough as Yixing ramps up how fast and hard he’s moving above Yifan. Once the call ends, Yifan drops his phone down onto the sofa and grabs Yixing’s hips with both hands.

“You’re such a shit,” he groans, planting his feet more firmly to the ground and bucking up into Yixing with more tenacity. “Why do you do this to me?”

“You like it,” Yixing sighs, maintaining his pace but squeezing around Yifan in a way that Yifan can only think of as blissful. “You’ve got a hot, young boyfriend bouncing on your lap whilst you act all bossy to those measly little interns, what wouldn’t you like about that?”

“You’re the worst.”

“We both know I’m the best baby boy, _gege._ Now, be quiet and fuck me properly,” Yixing commands.

Yixing squeaks when Yifan grabs hold of his thighs and yanks him down. It’s unsurprising that Yixing takes it as a challenge and Yifan knows to simply go along with the ride, aware that Yixing has an absurd amount of energy. Especially when it comes to sex with Yifan. There’s a rough edge to the way Yixing shifts on top of Yifan, signalling a shift that Yixing’s moving is less to tease Yifan now and more to chase a climax. Yifan’s shirt that Yixing has on swamps is beginning to stick to Yixing’s body with sweat. Yifan only imagines that he doesn’t look too dissimilar himself. Still, Yixing pays no mind to how hot the room has grown, he keeps moving his body.

No one Yifan has ever slept with has made him feel like Yixing does, given that Yixing appears to be the only person who has properly taken time to learn what Yifan likes. And Yifan definitely likes it when Yixing seeks out what he wants because he always does so with such determination. And Yifan can tell that all Yixing wants is for them both to feel good, for them both to feel like they’re bursting from the inside out.

A handful of curse words drop from both of their lips when they’re equally moving at their limits. Yixing’s legs are trembling with effort, but he doesn’t stop. Yifan knows he’s about to cum soon, too on edge from being brought so close by Yixing’s mouth, and he can tell Yixing knows it too. This time, Yixing shows no sign of stopping Yifan short, continuing on with riding Yifan, gripping his shoulders with his nails dug into Yifan’s skin.

When his orgasm does consume his body, Yifan holds Yixing’s hips down to his own as he twitches and spills cum inside Yixing until it surrounds his cock with warmth. His eyes are slightly rolled back, mouth wide open in a weak croak of a groan, and Yixing’s tongue is on his ear again. His brain empties from everything other than the moment he tips over the edge and everything he can sense is Yixing, so vividly but yet so distantly all at once. He’s so numb all over from the pleasure of his release that his hands move clumsily to try and jerk Yixing off.

They get Yixing to his finish together, with Yixing crying out an involuntary, _“Gege!”_ before he deflates down onto Yifan’s chest for a moment. Yixing’s cum is spread out across Yifan’s stomach having landed on his shirt, wetting it through.

Still short on breath and trying to reach for any thoughts at all, Yifan gasps out, “I forgot to take notes…”

“I just gave you one of the best fucks of your life and you’re thinking about that?” Yifan would have thought Yixing was angry with him, if he hadn’t laughed it out limply on the patch of skin revealed by Yifan’s partially unbuttoned shirt.

“I think… I think you broke me,” Yifan admits, still hazy. “I’m broken.”

Sitting up, having regained his energy faster than Yifan could hope to, Yixing stands up from Yifan’s lap and smiles down at him. He doesn’t even bother tucking Yifan’s cock back into his trousers.

That sight must have been amusing for Yixing, as he laughs to himself whilst traipsing back towards Yifan’s bedroom. He’s probably headed over to the en suite bathroom for a shower to clean himself off, but Yifan’s too out of it to think properly still. Yifan lays with his head against the sofa’s backrest, chest heaving as he pants and tries to regain some sense of self.

Yifan most certainly is not with Yixing for the sex but when Yixing leaves him feeling tingles up and down his body, from the tips of his fingers and down to his toes, Yifan knows he’s incredibly lucky to have someone who can leave him feeling like that. It’s the closest thing to mind-blowing that Yifan can think of in his fractured state. In every sense he can think of, Yixing’s easily the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Baby, you should maybe get ready for that lunch you’re going on, if you don’t want to be late,” Yixing singsongs from where he’s disappeared into. “You might want to get a shower, too.”

“Right, yes,” Yifan mutters to himself, looking down at his body and noting the mess on his lower body. Suddenly remembering that he actually has things to do.

Yifan stands up, legs trembling slightly to follow after Yixing.

 

xxx

 

(When Yifan gets home, Yixing’s hunched over his MacBook with his earphones connected to his phone, probably listening back to recordings of the interviews he did the night before. Yifan presses a quick kiss to the side of Yixing’s head in greeting before heading over to the refrigerator, hoping to pull out things to make a small dinner with. Instead of there being the raw ingredients left for Yifan to cook, there’s a few bowls of a meal that’s cooled.

Yifan takes them out in one hand and uses the other to get Yixing’s attention, nudging Yixing’s chin until they’re facing each other and he’s able to place a kiss fully on Yixing’s lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers and Yixing tilts his head to the side, grinning. His eyes so happily curved over his full, dimpled cheeks that Yifan genuinely feels like Yixing’s actively out to give him a heart attack. “You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“It’s the least I could do, love, since I was the one who _‘broke’_ you.”)


End file.
